Blood Is Thicker
by darkchop sandwich
Summary: If you think you've read this, think again. Three years later, I've returned for a revamp. A mysterious witch arrives at Hogwarts from the states. She sets events in motion that no one could have forseen.
1. The Visitor

_Ding-dong!_ Mr. Dursley heaved himself from his chair towards the door. It was hot on that Saturday in June, and the entire Dursley family was inside, enjoying their air-conditioning. Dudley was screaming at his computer, whose screen had cracked the night before when he threw it off the desk after he died in a video game. Aunt Petunia was sipping lemonade in the kitchen, writing a letter to the mother of one of Dudley's friends, saying "thank you" for the lovely tea party last Thursday. Harry was quietly answering his mail, thankful for his recent solitude. The Dursleys had finally figured out that the less they bothered Harry, the less their lives were disrupted. Harry liked it that way.

Since he had arrived home that summer, Harry had spoken little, been spoken to less, and left the house even less. Both the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic said that they would be in touch, but after over a month of waiting, Harry had heard nothing. He had only heard from Ron, Hermione, and even Neville, who reported that his nose was as good as new. There was not even a hint of official news. Harry was just bundling up his latest assortment of letters for Hedwig when he heard Uncle Vernon answer the door. The door closed swiftly, and the visitor spoke in a hushed voice. Uncle Vernon replied irritably, then Harry heard a stern, commanding, "_Now_, Mr. Dursley! I come on urgent business that cannot be kept waiting," It was a young woman, obviously not intimidated by Mr. Dursley's bulk.

"Petunia! Dudley! Harry! Come to the parlor please, we have... er... a visitor!" Harry waited until he heard Dudley launch himself down the stairs to open his door and join the Dursleys in the parlor.

Harry had never seen her before. Wearing a black shirt and khaki pants, she could have been any girl in the neighborhood, but judging by his uncle's reaction to her, Harry knew better. She was seated in Uncle Vernon's usual chair, commanding the room. The Dursleys sat together on the opposite sofa. As Harry walked in the room, she rose and smiled, "This must be Harry." She crossed the room to shake Harry's hand. "My name is Elizabeth Morgan Gwydion, and I am here on an official visit from the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Muggle Affairs. I am here about Harry."

"What has he done now? And what business does a girl of your age have running errands for this Ministry Nonsense?" Uncle Vernon was on the verge of detonation, clearly displeased at not being in control. Elizabeth continued, refusing to acknowledge Uncle Vernon's outburst.

"I am here on the behalf of the Ministry of Magic, specifically, the Department of Muggle Affairs, as well as other interested parties." Harry realized that there was more to this meeting than just a visit from the Ministry.

"You have kept Harry safe, clothed, and housed for the past fifteen years, a service that the Ministry can barely begin to repay. And last summer, the full realization of the potential dangers looked you square in the face and yet, Harry is still able to call this place home. The Ministry, and other parties, are aware and wary of these threats, and are watching this house constantly. We believe that you have a right to know the full extent of these dangers, in light of recent events. Over sixteen years ago, the wizarding world witnessed the rise of Lord Voldemort..." She spelled it all out for them: Voldemort's rise, that night in Godric's Hollow, the close encounters of the past five years, including that spring's reunion at the Ministry of Magic itself. It _was_ the truth, but an abbreviated version for the Dursleys, Harry knew. She said nothing of the prophecy. She said nothing of Sirius. She said nothing he didn't already know. "It is quite clear, that we have serious security concerns at the Ministry and have numerous personnel on probation pending a deep investigation. We, at the Ministry, are finding ourselves less and less able to spare agents to maintain constant surveillance on your home. We have therefore decided to temporarily transfer Harry to a more secure location, removing the target of the threats. This will make it easier to protect Harry, and the surveillance here can be conducted from a wider spectrum. We will by no means leave you to fend for yourselves. Once our workforce is again at its full ability, we _will_ have Harry return _home_." Elizabeth shot a firm look at Aunt Petunia. "Harry needs to leave today to be transported to his temporary residence."

Uncle Vernon and Dudley looked confused and said nothing. Only Aunt Petunia wore an expression of comprehension and was able to respond. "How can we be sure that you're not…"

"How can we be sure that you're not a one of them, luring me into a trap to kill me?" Harry finished her sentence.

"Though I hardly approve of Harry's, um, interesting heritage," Aunt Petunia cut in, "he is my nephew just the same, and I wouldn't knowingly send him into danger." Harry looked at his Aunt in surprise, and for the first time ever, might have seen a look for him other than disgust in her face.

Elizabeth rolled up her sleeves and showed Harry her arms. There was no Dark Mark. "And you should recognize this, Harry," She reached into her bag, and pulled out a large, grey feather, too big to be from any bird. Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Where did you… ?"

"It took a bit of convincing, but they let me pluck it back at headquarters. I knew you'd recognize it." Harry knew that the feather had to be Buckbeak's. Buckbeak still lived where he had been in hiding with Sirius, at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"The wings of the phoenix spread far, I guess," Harry said, still not completely convinced. But if the Headquarters had been attacked, surely he would have heard of it.

"As far as dog, stag, or wolf can run," she replied, smiling for only the second time since she had arrived. A silent moment passed in the room. Harry knew that those three animals strung together would never be coincidence.

"She's a friend, Aunt Petunia. We can trust her. I guess I'd better go and pack then."

"I'll help," Elizabeth said, following Harry to his room. The Dursleys remained in the parlor, waiting.

Packing went quickly with Elizabeth there to help. Out of her official role as a Ministry agent, she was friendly and easy to talk to. The first thing she told him was that he could stop calling her "Agent Gwydion" or even "Elizabeth". "Call me Liz," she told him. When the trunk was packed, his broom in hand, and Hedwig settled in her cage, Harry and Liz headed back downstairs.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon were still sitting in the parlor. They were clearly unaccustomed to absorbing new information, and did so at a snail's pace. They didn't even notice that Liz had charmed Harry's things to float down the stairs themselves. Uncle Vernon only glanced at the two standing by the door, shaking his head as he looked away, angry and confused, but relived that Harry was leaving at all. "Dudley, you can go back to your room now," Dudley didn't hesitate a moment, but ran up the stairs to his room like a scared elephant cub. Uncle Vernon, somewhat more sedately, retreated to the kitchen, mumbling "good-bye" and something about "paper work". Liz opened the front door and waved. A man came from the car to get Harry's things. At the same time, Aunt Petunia appeared from the kitchen.

"Here are some sandwiches. Take care Harry," her voice was as crisp and curt as ever as she thrusted the baggies at Harry. "I'll get the door."

"Thank you very much Mrs. Dursley. We'll be in touch," and Liz directed Harry out the door. Somehow, the man had managed to get all of Harry's belongings to the car by himself. A black limousine sat in the Dursley's driveway, the attendant standing ready with the door open. Harry turned to say good-bye to his aunt, but the door was already closed. He followed Liz to the car without even asking where she was taking him.


	2. Home

"Would you like something to drink, Harry?" Liz indicated the tiny refrigerator built into the wall of the limo.

"Well, what do you have?"

"Anything you'd like."

"Just water'll be fine." She opened the fridge and an infinite variety of choices were arrayed before him.

"Carbonated? Flavored? Imported? Just plain H2O?"

"Uh, just plain is great." Harry took some time to make a closer examination of his traveling companion. Her face was young, with bright blue eyes, framed by auburn curls. "You're not from around here, are you? Your accent, it's not, well, it's not normal."

"Oh, I'm from around here. I was born in **WHERE?** But I've been gone for a while." Harry stared blankly. "Ok, here's the long and the short of it. I think I've talked more today than in any other day in my life!" Liz had been born in London to a long line of rich, aristocratic, purebloods on her mother's side. Her father was a mystery she had been trying to piece together for years. During Voldemort's uprising, Liz's mother, Vivian, and she stayed out of it all, lying low on the family's estate outside of London. When she was six, Vivian had bundled Liz off to the United States. Liz had learned very quickly to drop her accent or risk merciless teasing. She attended a nameless school in New Orleans, where she studied standard magic, as well as Dark Arts and traditional Creole practices. Over the years, she acquired a Southern accent that infiltrated her speech. She had still returned to England every summer though, to visit old friends. Just this past month, Liz and her mother had returned to England for good.

"So, um," said Harry, fishing for conversation, "are you going to Hogwarts next year? Or no…?"

"All my friends here go to Hogwarts, and it'll by more convenient for work, you know? I'll be a sixth year."

"Sixth? But what…" Harry stared in disbelief, "that would mean you're underage, right? What about the flying charms on my things back at the house?"

"I'm seventeen, Harry. I would be done with school by now, but I spent a few years studying abroad, so in terms of formal schooling, I'm behind. But," she smiled mischievously, "I did manage to completely test out of one subject."

"What?' Harry didn't even know that you _could_ test out of subjects at Hogwarts!

"A few weeks ago, I took some tests to see where they'd put me. I tested out of Divination. Plain, old good intuition is what I'd call it, but I guess I've really got a knack for it. Some things can't be taught." She was bragging, but only a little. "Oh, and I'm not taking History of Magic. I'm so far behind that I'm just going to study it this summer. I know ancient and American magic history, but my British is quite rusty. So I'll be doing some extra potions studies, ancient herb-lore and stuff to fill up my time."

"Potions? Then you'll be with Snape. He's rotten. Unless you're in Slytherin, or maybe a pureblood, he's got it..." Harry trailed off, remembering that Liz _was_ a pureblood, and feeling a little sheepish.

"I know Severus well. He's an old friend of my mother's. And I probably _will_ be a Slytherin. My mom was. A lot of my family was." Liz saw the look on Harry's face, "A lot of bad witches and wizards came from Slytherin, but that doesn't mean that Slytherin is a one-way ticket to Death-Eater-ville." An extremely awkward silence passed between them, when suddenly she exclaimed, "Oh! Look! Here we are!" And there they were.

They were in the country, and in the dimming twilight you could see the distant London lights. Harry turned back towards the house and found before him a picture-perfect pastoral scene: a great country manor house, fields for animals (or Quidditch, it occurred to Harry), and a forest bordering the vast property. "Welcome to my home. It's been in the family for, well, no one really knows how long!" Liz beamed with pride, giddy like a little girl. For the first time all day, she was completely at ease, warm and comfortable. She was bubbling over. Liz grabbed Harry by the hand and dragged him along behind her. "Don't worry about your stuff," she called back, "it'll get where it needs to go. There's someone you need to meet!" She pulled him up stairs, around corners, and past door after door, until they reached a set of double doors at the end of a hallway. The doors were massive, nearly three times as tall as Harry. They were made of black wood, covered in carvings of the night sky and writing from a language Harry couldn't read.

"Are these hieroglyphics? Where did you get these?"

"They're from ancient Egypt, but they've been in the family for centuries, like most of the stuff around here. I can't really say where or when we got them. They've just always been here. They aren't even as cool as what's inside though! C'mon!" She pushed the doors open with ease, and they closed on their own behind the two, but Harry didn't even notice. Except for the floor and where the back wall met the house, it was a completely round room made entirely of glass, like when you hold a bubble in your hand. It was filled with immense mahogany bookshelves that reached to the ceiling, crammed with books. Harry couldn't even tell where the room ended above his head. It seemed to reach forever skyward. Enormous, high-backed armchairs surrounded numerous tables strewn with skymaps, quills, parchment, and even more books. Telescopes of various shapes and sizes were arranged around the edge of the room. The night sky stretched above them, stars shining brighter here than they ever did at home. Then a new voice interrupted his reverie.

"Hello, dear. I'm glad you're home." A tall but slight woman with long red hair rose from an armchair. The scroll she had been reading fell forgotten to the floor as she hugged Liz.

"Harry, this is my mother, Vivian. Mom, this is Harry Potter." They could have just been younger and older versions of the same person; only their eyes betrayed their individuality. Vivian's eyes were green emeralds, instead of blue, like Liz's. Vivian hugged Harry as well.

"Welcome to our home Harry. We're very glad you've finally made it here." Her voice was light and feathery, invoking images of Professor Trelawny for Harry, but with more truth to her. Vivian's eyes looked like they spent more time gazing up at the stars than at the world around her. Her arms held him lightly, but firmly. She reminded Harry of how he thought his own mother would have hugged him. "Just call me Vivian, dear." She set him back and surveyed him from head to toe, circling, examining every speck of him. Harry stood as still as he could, feeling more than a little like a specimen under a microscope. He heard Liz smother a chuckle behind him, obviously amused at his discomfort. "You're a little roughed up, but otherwise, you're just right. Just as I Saw you."

"But I've never met you before. Where have you seen me?" Harry was a bit shocked. He certainly would have remembered Vivian. She wasn't like anyone he'd ever met.

"Oh, I've never seen you before Harry. We've never met. But you are very important to our fates, Harry. Everyone's fates. I Saw you long ago, when I first met your mother. I knew then that our two generations would shape the world for years to come. We were only eleven," Vivian, "Only eleven, and I knew she'd have you."

"Tell me about my mother, please? I don't know her at all. I've heard all about my father, from Dumbledore, Sirius, Professor Lupin, Snape, even Voldemort. I don't know anyone who really knows her! Not my aunt, not anyone. Please?" Harry's eyes were pleading. She had died to save him, but he knew so little about her. At last, some answers were so close.

"Of course, child. Come," she answered. Each of them took a chair, settling in for the story. "Your mother was an impressive witch, Harry. Yes, she was muggle-born, but she quickly became someone to be reckoned with if you crossed her. Eventually we grew apart. The first time I saw her was at King's Cross Station, trying to get through to the platform. I gave her a hand, of course, back then, there was more to being a pureblood than being an arrogant snob. There she was, little Lily Evans. A bunch of us were talking about our families, and that's when I Saw you, Harry. You had her eyes, and her smile. She had a beautiful smile. She smiled a lot, but not always. Oh, and Merlin help the fool that crossed her. She was quick and clever. She never missed a trick. Lily was legendary in charms, and her hexes were just as good, if not better. She didn't use them often though, but she could come up with just about anything on the spot," Vivian chuckled. "There was this one time, in particular. You see, your mother didn't think much of your father in the beginning..."

"Aw, Lily! Just an hour! Just hang out with me for an hour!" James pleaded, trailing after Lily. He was grinning conceitedly, sure he'd win her over this time. Lily whirled around to face him, as well as Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who stood arrayed behind him.

"James Potter, you are, without a doubt, the most arrogant, ego-centric ass I have _ever_ known! And until you and your band of hooligans grow up a few years, you'll have as good a chance with me as… as… as Lucius Malfoy!"

"Lily, you are so cute when you're all riled up like this, " James put his arm around her shoulder, "so, why don't you just admit that you're head over heels for me, like every other girl in this school, and submit to your adoration?"

"So _that's_ how you want to be?" Lily said as she pointed her wand straight at James, "Have it your way!"

At first it seemed like nothing happened, then James tried to respond. "Hee-haw! Hee-haw? Hee-hee-hee- HAW!" James covered his mouth in shock, and Lily looked supremely satisfied. James looked to his friends, but they were rolling on the ground, roaring with laughter. James gave Lily a glare, and marched off down the hall.

"It took the teachers two days de-hex James! He finally realized what it's like to be embarrassed in front of everyone. He cooled down after that, and apologized to Lily. They were dating a week later. She just really impressed him, and he was hard to impress!" Vivian had calmed down enough to speak. "Your mother was a natural, Harry. It was only her fifth year, and it took the teachers two days to figure it out!" She sank into her chair, and seemed to just fall asleep.

"She'll be like that until tomorrow," Liz told Harry, "She Sees in her dreams. She's not really, well, here a lot, you know? She spends most of her time dozing and dreaming. It's hard sometimes, cause she's not really like a mom now. It's changed a lot in the past two years, how she Sees. She doesn't leave the house much. She really can't. She just doesn't function where we do. So I handle our business, our money, the Ministry, any councils our family holds a seat on, that sort of thing. It's all been legally passed to me. I'm not like that, so I take care of things"

They walked for a long while, making their way back to the entryway, and across it to Harry's room. "Here we are!" Liz said, sweeping open the door, "Your things are already in there, and if you need me, I'm upstairs, right hallway, third door on the left. I'll wake you up in the morning for breakfast. I'm glad you're here." Liz gave him a hug and closed the door behind Harry before she walked upstairs.

Harry looked around the room Not only was it larger than his bedroom at home, and _certainly_ larger than the cupboard under the stairs, it was quite possibly larger than the Dursley's entire house! But Harry just couldn't explore all of the doors, nooks and crannies, nor the gargantuan bathroom he glimpsed through an open archway to his right. He was so tired he could barely stand. So, he climbed under the ample blankets of the royal four-poster bed, sank into his pillows, and slipped into sleep


	3. Throwin' and Thrown Around

Liz did wake Harry for breakfast, and Harry found the kitchen positively buzzing with whisks, griddles, and juicers operated by invisible hands. French toast, bacon, sausage, and orange juice were on the table, fresh and hot (except the juice, just fresh!). Harry and Liz spent that day, and every other day, doing normal things: reading the post, feeding the owls, doing their summer studies, finding new and fascinating ways to make messes around the house, leaving them for the invisible hands to clean. They explored the house and grounds, went horseback riding, had broom races, and practiced Quidditch. They even watched TV and played video games. Liz pointed out, that among all muggle creations, TV's and video games were among the most useless, yet the most addicting. At night, they'd go up to the observatory to look through the telescopes, read, or sometimes just lie on the floor and look up at the infinite vault of sky, stars, and moon above them. Sometimes Vivian would join them, sharing stories, memories, and dreams. Weeks passed, and June became July before their routines were interrupted.

The _Daily Prophet_, which had taken to kissing Harry's butt no matter what he did, published an interesting letter to the editor. It started out vague, criticizing the Ministry for allowing "foreigners to engage in Ministry affairs", but soon came to attack Liz's family history, and even Liz herself, saying "surely her return is like the return of You-Know-Who's own right hand". Liz made a face as she read it aloud and threw the entire paper in the fire.

"Something getting under your skin, Liz?"

"Only a little. And didn't I see some Hogwarts' letters in the post somewhere?" she asked, digging though the pile. "Ah-ha! There y'all are!" She snatched the envelopes from the bottom and tossed one to Harry. They tore into their envelopes and read silently for a few moments. "So, you need to restock your potions kit, buy new books, new quills, stuff like that, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Nice. I love shopping! What can I say? I'm such a girl," Liz admitted sheepishly.

"Diagon Alley, then?"

"Mais bien sûr, my friend, but of course. Grab your list, the limo awaits.

The ride into London seemed to take no time at all, and the Leaky Cauldron was a sight for sore eyes. They quickly passed through the entrance to Diagon Alley, and the suspicious stillness was replaced by the sounds of the bustling marketplace. The two looked at each other and nodded, heading straight for Gringotts. After retrieving sufficient spending money from their respective vaults, Liz and Harry made their way back out. Just as they reached the door, a mass of red hair caught Harry's eye.

It was the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny, but not with either of their parents. They stood next to a skinny, red-haired man, with a tone of proud indignation Harry recognized right away. It was Percy. Ron had written Harry that Percy had come home, after realizing his mistake in judging his family. He recognized a fault when he saw one, always the calm and often the rational one. But Percy seemed to be quickly becoming upset over a dispute with one of the goblins at the front desk. Harry touched Liz's arm and looked in the Weasley's direction. "C'mon, maybe we can help," Harry suggested, leading the way. Liz followed behind, raising her eyebrows in interest, ready and eager to throw her weight around. As they approached, Liz and Harry could hear an edge to Percy's voice as he fought a loosing battle to stay calm.

"But sir," Percy contested, "I have the key and a letter signed by my father, authorizing me to make a withdrawal from the account!" His calm was rapidly disappearing, but he still maintained his rationality.

"I'm sorry young man, but unless one of the principle account holders is present, no withdrawal can be made, key or no key, letter or no letter." The goblin didn't even look up from his papers. Percy sighed and turned to leave.

"Do you not trust the man? Is _that_ the problem?" Liz challenged. She looked unconcerned, casually examining her nails, but her voice defiantly offered a challenge.

The goblin seemed quite confounded, but whether at the question or the questioner was not apparent. He stammered for a response, "Why, Miss Gwydion-"

"Because," Liz interrupted as if the goblin hadn't even spoken, "I can assure you that this young man is honest and is telling you the truth. I can vouch for him one hundred percent, and will personally reimburse the account if the fault is mine. Hence, I suggest that you take young Mr. Weasley to his parents' vault right away." She looked up only then, daring the goblin to force her hand. The goblin hesitated only a moment.

"This way Mr. Weasley, quickly. And bring your key." Percy cast a thankful glance back at Liz and she smiled and nodded, accepting his thanks. As Percy and his escort vanished down a hallway, Liz turned to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She grinned girlishly.

"My, my! That sure was fun, wasn't it? And it is _so_ perfect that we ran into y'all! I need to go handle some… business, I guess, and it would be terribly boring for Harry to have to tag along. Could he shop with you until I can catch up? I'll meet you in about an hour at, oh, ninety-three Diagon Alley?"

"You- you're- you're Elizabeth Gwydion!" Ginny stammered. "I've heard all sorts of things about you!" Her eyes widened in amazement. Liz rolled her own.

"Who hasn't these days? Half of it is flat-out lies, and the other half isn't even half as outrageous as the truth. So, one hour then? Number ninety-three?"

"Sure, " Harry answered, "an why do you want to meet at the Weasley Twins' Joke shop?"

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? Why not? I might as well check up on my favorite investment as long as I'm here," she winked at them and sauntered out the door.

Ron still had his jaw dropped to his knees, and was staring vacantly at Liz as she walked away. "Harry, if You-Know-Who's right hand looks like that, give me the Dark Mark right now!" Harry hadn't even thought of it that way, but Liz _was_ striking. And to think that Harry had been living with her for over a month, and none of this had occurred to him.

"Yes boys, " a patronizing Ginny cut into their trance, "girls do exist for a purpose other than hair pulling and other torments. Seriously, you guys act like you've never seen a girl before!"

"Not one like that," Ron mused. Once the boys recovered from their swoon, Harry and Ron discussed normal things, like their summers, and their classes, Liz's image still lingering in the backs of their minds. When Percy returned, the three updated him on the plan, and they were off. Both Ron and Harry were intrigued and a little disgusted with the supplies required for their sixth year potions class. Finished there, they went on to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to catch up on some fun and wait for Liz.

Relieved to be able to run her next errand alone. Liz made her way to Ollivander's Wands. When she opened the door, the bell above tinkled, bringing Mr. Ollivander out of the shelves. Liz smiled. She remembered this man and this shop from years ago when Vivian had brought Liz here for her first wand. "Elizabeth Morgan!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, "I remember when you were four years old, you would barely let go of your mother's hand to test your new wand. Four and three quarter inches, willow, with unicorn hair. A big wand for such a little girl as you were. Not so little now though. Running with the Ministry now, I hear."

"Only jogging really."

"You know, I always found that wand an odd fit for a child as young as you were. It was a sad wand, but willow and unicorn are a common pair in Seeing families. Now, you must have had another wand since then. What brings you to me?"

"My last wand was willow, eight inches, and well, even I can't circumvent some regulations. The Ministry has restrictions on human body part cores other than hair. Mine was the rib shard of a Voodoo queen, hence the problem. So, here I find myself."

"Willow, eh? I sense a pattern. Try this: willow, nine inches, unicorn hair. A classic." She took the wand. Nothing. It felt as cold as stone in her hand.

"No. I can never use willow again," Liz murmured. "I need something else, Mr. Ollivander. Willow is too… suggestible. It's too easy. I need something strong. Something steady." Mr. Ollivander approached her and got very close. He stared into her eyes, their noses nearly touching.

"I know what you need," he whispered softly. Mr. Ollivander rose and retreated far into the back of the store. When he returned, he carried an old, worn, black box. "Ebony and phoenix feather, nine and a half inches. Strong, dark and light. It's yours." A shower of black and gold surrounded her. Then, as soon as it had started, it subsided.

"Perfect," Liz smiled. She paid Mr. Ollivander and left without saying another word. She made her way from there to the joke shop.

"Why hello, most distinguished guest!"

"Oh, mistress-of-the-bottomless-bank-account, greetings!" Fred and George met Liz with their standard taunts. Liz laughed and joined in.

"Boys, boys, don't forget, I am expecting a twenty percent return on this place, or you lose your thumbs. All five of them."

"Ladies, gentlemen, and other patrons of this fine establishment, this is our most benevolent, generous, benefactor Lady Elizabeth…"

"Morgan…"

"Nimue…"

"Cornwall…"

"Gwydion! Make way for the Lady, make way!" Trumpet imitations followed as the twins escorted Liz about the store.

"_Very_ cute boys. Things going well it seems." Amidst the conversations and jokes, no one noticed a hunched woman slip in the front door.

She drifted around the edge of the store for several minutes before a quick flash of her face caught Liz's eye. Liz acted as though she had seen nothing, but slowly made her way towards Harry. She still smiled as the woman's actions became more calculated and deliberate, also closing her gap between her and Harry. Liz got there first. She leaned to Harry and whispered, "Get down, Harry. NOW!" Liz yelled as she shoved Harry to the floor, quickly dropping herself. A red blast narrowly missed, slamming into the shelves behind them. "Percy! Fred! George! Help!" Their wands were already at the ready, but before they could get a single spell off, the woman screeched a laugh and disapparated with a loud 'pop'.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" Percy yelled.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, the one and only." Liz helped Harry up, shoving aside boxes scattered by the blast.

"How did you know? How did you know to warn me?" Harry asked, picking cardboard shards out of Liz's hair.

"What?!?" Percy looked ready to loose it. "You knew who it was and you didn't attack on sight?!?"

"You try blasting off a stunner with a wand you're had for thirty minutes! I could have taken out you! Or Ron! Or Ginny! That would have been loads of fun!" She proved her point by summoning a broom and watching it miss her by and arm's length. She strode over to where the broom now laid on the floor, picked it up, and started sweeping without another word.

The twins hung their closed sign and the wizards and witches cleaned up the store, returning it to a general level of normalcy. Fred and George were used to messes in their shop, and Ginny proved to be quite adept in reorganizing the disrupted shelves. When they were all finished, Harry and Liz made for the door. Liz felt someone grab her hand. It was Ron. "Don't beat yourself up over it. The rest of us didn't even notice."

"I could have hit her, Ron. I know I could have."

"Then why didn't-"

"Because I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of killing her."

"But you didn't."

"… Yes."

"You know, Harry didn't kill Peter Pettigrew when he had the chance, years ago."

"It's different for me Ron."

"Somehow I don't think it is."

"That's because you've made one large mistake. Unlike Harry, I'm complicated. I'm not a good person exactly." And she left.


	4. Of Playmates, Primates, and Popes

"I just walk at that wall?"

"Well, yeah."

Liz stood and stared at the very solid looking bricks in front of her. She gripped the handles of her trolley, closed her eyes, and pushed towards the wall. She expected a sudden collision, but she just kept going. She opened her eyes and glanced back at Harry who followed behind her. He smiled and laughed. There, on platform nine and three quarters, porters took their bags and Harry found their way through the mob to the Weasley family, and they were shortly joined by Hermione Granger. Introductions were made and Hermione gasped.

"Elizabeth Morgan Nimue Cornwall Gwydion! I've read all about you!"

"What? How would you be reading all about her? And what do people around here have against just calling her 'Liz'?"

"Well, Harry, if you hadn't interrupted me, you'd know by now, now wouldn't you?" As always, Hermione had all the answers. "As of now, Elizabeth is the last direct descendant of Britain's oldest and most famous magic bloodline: the Pendragons."

Ron's eyes bugged out of his head. "You mean Pendragon, as in 'King-Arthur-and-the-roundtable' Pendragon?"

"Well, yeah," Liz was blushing a little. "Gwydion was Arthur's birth name. It's Celtic. He adopted the name Arthur when he became king, to fit in with the Christians. All of my names are family names, picked up from ancestors here and there."

"So, King Arthur, Morgana, Mordred, Lancelot, and all of them, they're your ancestors?" Ginny's expression matched her brother's.

"Yes. They were all cousins, and their descendants were too, but more distant, and so on down the line. But the relation is still very direct on my mother's side. We can trace it all the way back to Arthur and Mogana's mother. There's a lot of dark magic in there, so I usually try to keep my family kind of a secret..." A familiar face in the throng distracted Liz as she trailed off.

"Ok, ok. It's my turn. So, a monkey and the Pope walk into a bar…" Liz struggled to contain her laughter while she tried to speak. The Hogwarts Express was on its way, and its passengers were finding ways to pass the time.

"Who's the Pope?" Ron honestly didn't know. The other occupants of the compartment exploded in laughs, leaving Ron dumbfounded.

"You really do need to take Muggle studies, Ron! And the real question is, what in the hell was the Pope doing in a bar?" Hermione looked like she was about to loose control of her bladder.

"But who is-"

"Don't worry about it, Ron. I'll tell you later, and then you'll get it. So, they walk into a bar and sit down. The Pope turns to the monkey and asks him what he wants to drink, and the monkey says-"

"Hello, mind if I join you?" Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Liz all scooted to make room for Seamus.

"Ok, so, the Pope turns to the monkey and asks him-" The door slid open again. "Oh god. Will I ever get to finish this damn joke?" It was Pansy, wearing her distain for the compartment of Gryffindors like the Slytherin badge on her already donned robes.

"Elizabeth Morgan?'

"Yes, Pansy Margaret?"

Pansy glared at the use of her middle name. "I have a message. A certain someone is in the next car, third compartment from the front. He'd love it if you would make an appearance." Pansy hated being a messenger. "Though really, I can't see why any self-respecting Slytherin would want to spend time with you. It looks like you're having plenty of fun here. Why, if my father ever caught me with-"

"Well then, it's a good thing your father doesn't give a shit about you, now isn't it, darling?" Liz bristled at the paternal reference. "Now, I'd love to say it's been a pleasure to chat with you, but then I'd be lying, and you're not worth the trouble. Good-bye," and Liz shut the door in her face.

"So, who's the guy, Liz?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I have a lot of old friends going to Hogwarts, it could be anyone, really."

"My money's on Draco, personally," Harry said knowingly. "I recognized his handwriting from a letter I saw. You marked out the name, but after five years of classes with him, I know his hand. And I should say, it was definitely not a business letter of any sort, if that's what you're going to claim."

Liz stood and shrugged. "Well, so much for secrets around here. I'm going to go see my boyfriend. Excuse me." She made her way back, and nearly screamed as she crossed into the next car. "You!"

He shook his shaggy, silver blond hair out of his face. "Well, I should hope you weren't out looking for anyone else like this." Liz wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him for the first time in months, since she last saw him at Christmas. Draco kissed back, more than happy to oblige her. "It's nice to have you back for good. The distance has been killing me."

"Don't think for an instant that I don't know who my boyfriend has been filling his many, lonely hours with. The girls at Hogwarts will simply have to back off now, won't they?"

Draco draped his arms on Liz's hips. "And what about you dear? Rumors tell me that for months, you've been babysitting Potter," he spat out the name like a dirty word.

"We do not need to have this conversation, Draco. You know where my loyalties lie." And he did. Still holding her hand, Draco led Liz back to his compartment.

Christopher MacNair and Blaise Zabini greeted Liz with a sandwiching bear-hug. "Em! Good to see you! Up to all your old games, I hope?" The four of them, Elizabeth, Draco, Christopher, and Blaise had practically grown up together. They had grown distant of late, but always managed to get together a few times a year when Liz was about. She was trying very hard to ignore the way Pansy Parkinson was trying and failing to slip herself between Liz and Draco as she gushed her joy at seeing her "dearest Em" again. Only Blaise, Chris, and Draco had ever called her Em. Elizabeth Morgan, E.M., Em. Draco's unfortunate lackeys went outside to guard the compartment, displaced by this newly revived inner-circle. Pansy sniffed at the four friends' open warmth.

"If you have a problem, Pansy, we can take it outside." Em was as sweet as could be.

"Excuse me? Just because I know how to properly-"

"Don't get your panties in a bundle, Pansy. I hold no grudges. Just don't think for an instant that you'll be dipping into the well anymore. I really can't blame you though. Just look at him." Draco and Em always knew that each other's extra-curricular activities were just that, extra. Together, they were happiest. Their bodies nestled together in the corner, Draco's arms possessively around Em's waist. She reached back and ran her fingers through his hair.

Life was sweet for them. They were untouchable. Their names guaranteed it: Gwydion, Malfoy, MacNair, Bullstrode, Parkinson, and Zabini. With Crabbe and Goyle standing guard outside, they constituted the least touchable compartment on the entire train. They were all the perfect children. Charismatic, clever, graceful, and good-looking, they were the definitions all the things that good blood and good money were supposed to be. Together they absorbed the lifestyle: the extravagance, the excess, the scheming. Everyone was always outdoing someone else from the week before. It was a competition they were all good at, and over the years, it had accustomed the next generation to a very comfortable existence. A contented silence settled on the room.

"So, uh, Malfoy, this is an awkward question, I know, but, um… how's your father? How's Lucius?" Draco squirmed. Liz pulled his arms tighter around her, holding his hands in hers.

"Well, how's your father, MacNair? I suspect they're doing about the same out in Azkaban. And while we're one the subject of awkward paternal questions, let's ask Em about the ever elusive Daddy Gwydion, eh?" The numerous arrests made that spring had plenty of people on edge.

"Well, I haven't heard from my father. And I haven't… I can't go see him."

"I haven't seen Lucius either. My mum went once. She came home and drank herself unconscious for two days. Damnit! I just don't understand why he'd ruin everything like that!" Draco was pulling against Em's grip, but she held on.

"He didn't do it to _you_, you know." After months of the _Daily Prophet_ slamming his father, Em knew he needed to hear something positive right now. That was as good as she could do.

"Did you really just say that? Did you just say something vaguely positive about Lucius? I thought I'd never live to see the day." The silence became awkward, then smothering. A sudden knock on the door lifted the heavy blanket.

"Enter if you dare!" Liz threw her head back and laughed as Blaise growled. He had always been the joker, as twisted as he was.

The door slid open and Ron leaned against the frame. "We're pretty close to school Liz. You oughta get into your robes." The hostility was almost tangible, but the Slytherin and Gryffindor prefects weren't about to go at it right there on the train.

"I'll be back in a second, Ron. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Here," he tossed a black bundle at her. "Wouldn't want to break up the love fest, would we?" and he left.

She eased herself up and unwrapped Draco's arms from where they had fixed themselves around her hips. But his hand fixed itself around her wrist. Tightly.

"Don't let that trash, Weasley make you leave. _We_ don't have to care what they think." He tugged on her arm, the closest he would actually come to begging.

"Now, are you just saying that because your Daddy-dearest tells you that?" she countered, twisting her wrist out of his grasp. Lucius and Elizabeth had never seen eye to eye on the subject of pureblood wizard dignity. "And correction, y'all might not have to care what they think, but I have not been sorted yet."

"Oh, honestly, Em! What is there possibly to doubt about you? You're like the second coming of Morgana herself!" Blaise laughed. He had always thought that Liz had the coolest ancestors. "For Merlin's sake, just look at you! You're as Slytherin as they get!"

"Yes, but don't forget, I have the chivalry of Arthur and the lot to reckon with as well." As she made her way back up the corridor, Liz realized that she was smack dab between a rock and a hard place. Old friends could quickly become new enemies, and old enemies would become something worse. Liz made a beeline for Ron and caught him by the arm, not even knowing what to say. "Ron, just listen-"

"No, you listen, Elizabeth. I don't know what you think you are up to, but there are a lot of people putting a lot of trust in you, and you kissing a Malfoy makes you look more like a Morgana than a Guinevere, don't you think?"

"Gwen is not even my ancestor, Ron. And despite the fact that my personal life is really none of your business, I'll fill you in. That was me spending my boyfriend of five years. I haven't talked to or seen him in months, so pardon the affection. I have known all of them since before I can remember. I will not abandon my old friends just to please my new ones."

"It sure doesn't look good. Your past has a whole lot of fuzzy areas, Liz."

"Let's get one thing straight, Ronald. Just because I've spent the last eleven years in America, don't assume I'm ignorant to what has happened. I'm not an idiot. I know what's at stake here. Voldemort will die. His Death Eaters will be destroyed. I will play a hand in that." Her voice had dropped almost to a growl.

"As long as Pettigrew is mine, and Harry gets his shot at Voldemort, you can put your hand in all you'd like, Liz."

"I think Remus might fight you over Pettigrew. And I know you father would _love_ to nail Lucius, and I wish him the best."

"Alright, Liz. I trust Malfoy about as far as I could throw him, but you're with us now."

"Are you really sure about that, Ron? The only life I've ever known is back there, and I'll never have it the same again. And you know what? I wish I could! I wish I could just sit back on the assurance that I'd spend my next two years here with my boyfriend and my two best friends, following in my family's well-trod path of darkness, treachery, and eventual madness. I wish I knew that Draco's parents could one day be happy that we're going to get married sooner or later. I wish I knew that I would fit in somewhere. Nothing is sure for me. You, you've got Harry and Hermione, and your family, and Gryffindor. I don't know if I'll ever have that!"

"But you do! You have me and Harry. My sister adores you. Hermione loves having another girl around. You'll always have Draco," Ron winced. "If they're really your best friends, a different house won't change it. A war is coming, Liz. Loyalties will fall somewhere. If they've got you with us, maybe we'll have a few more for the fight, though the day I fight side by side with a Malfoy is the day the sky falls in."

"Be careful Ron. Even our idle words can have a way of shaping things to come."

"So, if you say you wish you were a Slytherin, you will be?"

"I've got a feeling that my house has already been decided for me. I just really can't tell what it will be, which one will be best for us." The train slowed and came to a stop.

"Well, Liz, we'd better get going. The moment of truth is almost upon us."


End file.
